


Pieces of Us

by nbarker1990



Category: The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-03 19:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 4,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8726485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nbarker1990/pseuds/nbarker1990
Summary: A series of unrelated, non-chronological, very short stories about Blake and Gwen. All written on the way to, from or at work. #workfic





	1. Chapter 1

In the end, it hadn’t felt like surprise, just inevitability. Because of _course_ Gavin had been cheating again, and of _course_ it was with the nanny, and of _course_ he’d try and wriggle his way out of it. It had been telling, really, taking in the reactions from her friends and family when she’d choked out the bitter truth, informing them that, yes, once everything had settled down a bit, she was going to file for a divorce. Not a single exclamation of ‘how unexpected!’ to be found.

 

"I dunno," she replies, her fingers playing absent-mindedly with the third button on her lover's shirt (open, shut, open, shut). "Sometimes I have these memories and they're so strong, y’know, like the look in his eyes when he held Apollo for the first time. And he looked _right_ at me, told me he adored me and would forever, and it seemed so real - "

 

"And then you remember that he was probably banging someone else the very next day," Blake says, a wry but pained grin momentarily crossing his face. Because yeah, she’s not alone on this particular fucked-up boat. "Second-guessing everything you thought you knew sucks."

 

She reaches for him, a hand skimming his jawline, her soft fingers on his greying scruff. Her lips meet his and maybe it’s because his sweet, worshipful kisses are preferable to self-recrimination and bitterness.

 

Or maybe it’s just because she can.


	2. Chapter 2

He's pretty certain he's just fallen in love all over again. 

 

"Gwen, I - "

 

She smiles softly at him and he wants to capture all that light and live in it forever. "Guess I'm going to have to get used to being second best around here." Because christ almighty, Apollo reached for HIM. First. "Go on. He wants you, cowboy."

 

And so he reaches for her son, lifts him up against his chest, a place he's taken to cuddling up to at all times of the day and night lately. Gwen says she totally gets that desire, and yeah, it kind of makes him blush a little bit but also, he wants to shout it from the rooftops. "He still looks a little sleepy," Blake says, brushing a few stray curls back behind Apollo's ears. "You sure we should be getting him up?"

 

Gwen raises an eyebrow at him, laughs. "You're too cute. But yes. It's fine." She leans in and kisses her baby on the lips, and he's struck once again by how much he loves Gwen as a mother. He loves her as a performer, as a girlfriend, as a songwriter, as a lover, but lately, he's been getting to know who she is a mom even more, and it's... Well, it's beautiful. Apollo burrows into him further, his little hands clutching at Blake's shirt with more strength than he had assumed kids at that age even had. "C'mon, we'll go back to our room with him."

 

He follows her, and yeah, the word 'our' is like some kind of distracting, crazy bright neon sign in his brain right now, because HOLY HELL. She takes the right side of the bed and he the left (he still remembers the first time they spent the night together and they realized they both liked the same side; they'd compromised and she'd just sprawled all over him until morning), and Apollo fidgets and wriggles until he finds a comfortable spot between them.

 

"I thought my little family was full, y'know..." she says, her voice almost a whisper. He reaches for her hand across Apollo's belly, entwines their fingers. "And then you came along and completed it."


	3. Chapter 3

"I swear, he’s usually better behaved than this," she explains apologetically. "Today’s just been one of those days, y’know."

 

The photographer grins at her, brushes it off. "We deal with your boyfriend here every week, as you well know. In comparison, Apollo’s doing just fine."

 

Her youngest is currently squirming on her red chair, kicking out at Kingston and Zuma, who are making valiant efforts to keep him still. They’ve been at it for over ten minutes now, trying to get all the coaches’ children to pose for a photo together. Adam’s got little Dusty Rose curled against his chest, fast asleep, and Gwen’s crazy jealous of how _easy_ it all seems. Even Alicia’s babies are quiet, occupied with a game on their dad’s iPhone.

 

"Problem?" Blake’s accent, its richness and depth, is like warmth in her belly, and she leans back into his embrace.

 

"I have three sons. Is there ever not one?"

 

She can feel her boyfriend’s smile against her cheek, and watches fondly as he walks over and scoops Apollo up in his arms. "How about we sit on my chair instead, buddy?" he suggests.

 

Fifteen minutes later, they get their first look at the photos NBC has to work with, and yeah, she totally cries. She and her eldest sons are squished together in her own chair, and a few feet away, her youngest – wearing a plaid shirt which almost matches her boyfriend’s – is grinning like a maniac, standing on Blake’s lap and tugging at his slightly mussed hair.

 

Later that night, lying in bed with nothing between them, she wipes away a tear from his cheek, too.


	4. Chapter 4

"So," he says on a deep exhale, laughing as Gwen refuses to let him slip out, her fingers still digging into his ass cheeks.

 

"So," she agrees, and god almighty, he’s pretty sure she’s never looked more beautiful than she does right now, a little sweaty, a little flushed and a whole lot happy. "Kinda glad your Mom took the kids for the night now."

 

"Haven’t lost yer voice from all that screaming?"

 

She half-heartedly slaps his bare shoulder, and he can’t stop himself from grabbing her hand and raising it so he can stare right at her ring finger. He presses a gentle kiss just above the gold band there and lets out what he knows is a ridiculously pitiful-sounding sigh.

 

"Have I thanked you yet?"

 

His wife’s (and wow wow wow wow) smile wavers a little. "You know you don’t need to, right? That I’m not doing you a favor by marrying you, that this is just as amazing to me. _You’re_ just as amazing to me."

 

Blake doesn’t answer, just rolls them over so her long, slender body is blanketing his. Her feet are like blocks of ice (he’s honestly never met anyone who gets as cold as Gwen does) and so he shifts a little, reaching down their bed so he can pull the comforter up over them.

 

She lets out a little snuffle of appreciation and nuzzles into his neck, whispering almost unintelligible endearments. He hears them, though; hears them in the way her eyes light up when he tells her _I love you;_  hears them in the way her fingertips are gently playing with his damp curls; and hears them in every contented sigh and every soft kiss that she gifts him with until they both fall asleep. 


	5. Chapter 5

_Not tonight_ , she pleads as her ex’s face (smarmy dick) pops up on her cell phone _. Please not tonight_. The kids have been with her all week and, honestly, it’s not been a good one. Filming the promo material for the next season of the Voice had disrupted their new somewhat stable schedule, and Kingston has been uncharacteristically acting out. According to him, Gwen has ‘ruined’ their family. She knows it was said in the moment and he tearfully apologized later that evening, but... Dropping her head to her knees, she lets out a long groan before picking up.

 

"What?" she asks bluntly, trying to summon up all her worn-down patience.

 

"And hello to you _too_ , love." It’s frustrating, actually, how her body still automatically reacts to that endearment. She’s not his love, isn’t sure she ever truly was, but she feels that familiar old warmth spread through her chest regardless. She doesn’t answer, waits him out. "Uh, so, I was wondering if you could do me a favour? Keep the boys next week too?"

 

"I have studio time booked. And The Voice."

 

"And they’re more important?"

 

"Fine," she says through gritted teeth because YOU CHEATING LYING BASTARD HOW DARE YOU probably isn’t appropriate. And then she hangs up.

 

Three hours later, when she’s curled up on her side in bed, tired eyes straining as she replies to another tweet from an excitable fan, there’s another call. Blake tells her about the time Miranda threw a bottle in his face and in return, she tells him that Gavin once refused to talk to her for an entire week. Eventually, they settle into a more comfortable conversation and when he finally hangs up ("Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. I’ve really missed you."), she thinks what she’s feeling is hope.


	6. Chapter 6

Kingston’s curled up in his oversized, cushion-covered chair, laptop precariously balanced on the arm while he types. Occasionally, his brow furrows and he bites his lip, and Blake is - as always - tempted to step in and ask if he can help. It’s something he’s learned during the past three years, though, to give the boys space and that they’ll come to him if and when they want his help with their schoolwork. 

 

“It’s for music,” Gwen’s oldest son eventually concedes, apparently aware that Blake’s eyes are on him. “She wants us to choose our favorite albums and it’s not really fair. I mean, five isn’t many.”

 

“Don’t think I could even choose a top twenty,” he agrees. “Puttin’ one of your Mom’s on the list?”

 

Kingston’s face lights up, and if anyone ever questions whether his wife is a good mother, all he needs to do is somehow show them what he’s seeing right now: pure, unadulterated love. “Probably Truth. Y’know, because - ” He trails off. “It was the really important one, right. Because - ”

 

His voice falters, and so Blake leans forward and gives his stepson a pat on the shoulder. “She’ll be really proud.” 

 

“We have to bring records in as well next week. Some of the kids don’t have any, so Mrs Austin said she’s gonna bring some from home from when she was a teen. You and mom don’t mind if I hunt through your collection and take a few, right?”

 

“Go for it. I can bring you a few boxes now if you want? So we don’t forget?”

 

Twenty minutes later, he and Kingston are sprawled on the floor, discarding a somewhat dated looking Dolly Parton LP (Blake receives an apologetic smile when that gets passed over) and keeping a fantastic-looking copy of Elvis Costello’s Spike. 

 

When he finds a stack of 45s, all with Richie’s name in black marker on the labels, he finds himself swallowing a lump in his throat. He’d, well, he’d forgotten… 

 

“You okay?” Kingston says, his warm eyes expressive and concerned. “We can st - ”

 

He takes the top one (‘Centerfold’, of course…) and gives it to the boy. “My brother’s. Found all of them under his bed after he passed, y’know. I still sort of feel like I’m just borrowing them.”

 

Kingston determinedly puts it in the ‘keep’ pile. 


	7. Chapter 7

Everything seems perfectly normal and maybe that’s why it takes so long to realize why she feels out of sorts, like something’s seriously off. Pharrell’s being his usual angelic patient self and entertaining her boys, and she’s pretty sure Adam’s in catering still. Blake, though, he’s sitting on the steps of his trailer, shoulders hunched and clutching his phone with an iron grip. That’s not unusual, of course (for someone who clings to the uncool country boy image, he’s super addicted to technology), but his expression definitely is. 

 

Nobody’s happy _all_ the time but if Gwen had to choose one person who approaches that, Blake would easily top the list. Except right now. His head is bowed and it’s kind of stunning to her that she can see his unhappiness without his face even being visible. 

 

She doesn’t know Blake all that well but she likes him, and so… Well, _someone_ has to make sure he’s okay. He flinches when she touches his shoulder.

 

“Gwen,” he says and his tone is flat, emotionless. It feels so wrong. She’s come to rely on him these past few weeks - for laughs, for smiles, for a little joy when she’s feeling overwhelmed and conflicted about Gavin and other shit going on at home. “Everything okay?” His brow is furrowed and he tilts his head, looks up at her. 

 

“Kind of wanted to ask you the same thing.” Before she can overthink things, she gives in to her instinct, leans down and uses her thumbs to smooth out the lines in his forehead. “Is something wrong?”

 

Blake gives her a soft smile, the warmth in his eyes returning (thank god). He's playing with his wedding ring now, moving it up and down and up and down, and it's making her restless and nervous. She hates that. “I thought Pharrell was exaggerating when he told me how sweet you are, y’know. I’m glad he wasn’t.”

 

He captures one of her hands in his (his fingers are crazy long and his skin is surprisingly soft), and her eyes dart to the sight. “If you ever want to talk…” Gwen offers. “Well, I’m here.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Gonna bring your boys?” Adam asks casually, kneeling on the floor so Dusty can climb onto him for a piggyback. Blake doesn’t know if he’s actually expected to respond until his friend straightens and their eyes meet. _Okay then, bud. Settle._ He’s been nagging him and Carson all week on set about attending the Lakers game this weekend, and honestly, it’s just not something he’s given a lot of thought to. “You guys will still have them for the rest of the month, right? I swear, lately the custody schedule seems to change every time I blink.”

 

Laughing, Blake gives Adam a one-armed hug, careful to avoid knocking into the sweet girl currently sticking a finger in his friend’s ear. “We do. Apollo has his soccer game in the morning, but we should be free later on.”

 

“Ugh, couldn’t convince him basketball would be better?” 

 

“Zuma’s working on it, hoping for a switch next year. The little guy’s enamored though. We’re blaming his English genes. Pretty sure I’ve spent more time pretending to be a terrible goalkeeper than I’ve actually spent playing sport with the older two for real this year.”

 

_He launches himself on the ground, hands grazing the side of the ball as it passes into the back of the net. Next thing he knows, Apollo’s beside him, yelling in his ear about how much FUN he’s having and how NOBODY scores as many goals as he does._

 

_“You’re gonna make me deaf, kid,” he says, grinning when his stepson flops onto the grass next to him. “All tired out?”_

 

_“‘m so not,” he insists, and Blake’s not going to point out that the six-year-old is literally yawning right in his face. “B'sides, Mom said we can stay out til it gets dark.”_

 

_“It’s dark-ish now, right?”_

 

_“That’s dumb, Pa_ _.”_

 

_“Love you too.”_

 

Eventually, he promises to text Adam when he knows for sure that Gwen’s okay with him taking the kids, and he heads to his car, humming a few stray notes from a song that he can’t quite identify. When he arrives home, everything’s as it should be; his wife’s trying to convince Zuma that their new puppy doesn’t need ten walks a day, Kingston’s frowning over a pot of spaghetti in the kitchen, and Apollo’s attempting to do soccer drills in the hall. 

 

It’s chaos. And he loves it. 


	9. Chapter 9

Standing in the foyer of her house at one in the morning, morosely listening as Blake’s rented car backs out of the drive, is her new least favourite thing to do in the world. He’s been right next to her in bed for the past five nights (he lies on his back with his right leg skewed at a slightly odd angle) and honestly, she’s pretty sure it’s going to be hard to get to sleep without him.

 

Sighing, she turns all the lights off as she heads towards her bedroom. Seeing his dumb comb sitting right next to the basin as she brushes her teeth and flosses has her tearing up, and Christ almighty, how has she gotten to this kind of dependency already? It’s what Sophie had warned against, why other concerned friends had told her to try and take it slow. And yet…

 

Brrrnnnggg. _Pleaseletitbehim_. _Pleaseletitbehim_. After drying her hands off, she reaches for her phone, swipes and reads his text.

 

          **You as lonely as me? Miss u.**

 

          Home already? Miss u to. Gx.

 

        **Nah. Barely made it round the corner. Send me a pic?**

 

So she does, makes sure to exaggerate her pout because her boyfriend deserves to know what his absence does to her. After a few wobbly weeks where they’d hesitated to put a name on what they were doing, had stepped around defining exactly how they felt about each other, they’d happily settled into something approximating normalcy.

 

          **Wow. Youre soooooo hot.**

 

          Come back? <3

 

          **What about the boys?**

 

          You can creep out before they come. Or stay n have bfast with us? No nudity tho cowboy.

 

She meets him at the door, her oversized tee barely covering her ass and her arms across her breasts. The second they’re in darkness again (the moon had really done wonders for the silver in his hair, though), he’s pressing kiss after kiss to her lips, his fingertips firm on her thighs.

 

“You’re sure?” he asks, his husky voice such a turn-on that she almost demands they not wait for the bed and use the damned wall instead. “Really?”

 

“Really really.”

 

“I choose breakfast, Gwen. All the breakfasts.”


	10. Chapter 10

She pops her head into the room, cradling a plate with their buttered bread on it close to her chest. “So, do you think we left a single piece of mistletoe on any of the trees round here, or do we need to make another trip when the boys join us?”

 

Blake pats the seat next to him, shifting to give her room; she doesn’t take it, instead planting her pretty ass right on top of his crotch as she sits astride him. He’s fairly sure he’s grinning inanely as she literally starts feeding him from her own fingertips. “I almost died getting that last piece earlier today, so anything that survived deserves to stay, I reckon.”

 

“Survival of the fittest.”

 

He nuzzles into her sweater, noses the top of it down so he can access more of his girlfriend’s soft, soft skin. “Nerd.”

 

“Says the man who could probably tell me all the session musicians on, like, every single Dolly Parton album, right?”

 

“Not even embarrassed about that,” he laughs. “You love it.”

 

“Mmm, I do.” He leans in for a kiss, and growls when she turns aside and puts another piece of bread in her mouth. “Not as much as this, though. Can you believe we actually made bread, Blake!?”

 

Raising an eyebrow at his girlfriend, he very deliberately puts the plate on the couch next to theirs. “‘m more interested in making somethin’ else.” Her arms hook around his neck, her fingers playing with the too-long grey hairs there. He really should get her to trim his hair sometime soon; maybe after the holidays when they’re back in LA. “Love,” he eventually amends, realizing she’s not going to be of any help. “God, Gwen. Gonna make me spell it out?”

 

Her pout might be the cutest thing in the universe. She shifts on him, ‘accidentally’ brushes his already hardening cock as she adjusts her position. 

 

“Bed or chair?” he eventually asks. “Your choice.”

 

Her kiss is deep and wet and makes his chest tighten with want, and when her teeth graze his neck, he’s about ready to just lift her into his arms and carry her to their bedroom like a regular old neanderthal. “Chair,” she demands. “THEN bed.”


	11. Chapter 11

The first night after they get home from the hospital is quiet. Todd and Jen have promised to keep the boys for a few days if it’ll be any help, but Gwen honestly can’t even look far ahead just yet. They go to bed early but don’t sleep; they lie next to each other but they don’t speak.

 

It would be easy, she thinks, to just withdraw completely but she knows that that won’t work. It didn’t last time, that’s for sure, and she didn’t even have _him_ back then.

 

“Love you,” he finally says against her shoulder as he shifts a little closer. “So much.”

 

Blake’s been so careful with her all day, and she’s not sure if she wants him to just let go (the anguish in his eyes tells her she’s not alone in her grief) or whether that’ll just make things worse. His large hand is resting on her hip, and she tries to concentrate on the warmth of his touch and not the coldness of the gel and the machines that had kept her company earlier. 

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

The response is automatic and rote. “Not your fault.”

 

“Or yours,” he insists, his fingers trailing up her arm and tilting her chin so she’s looking him right in the eyes. “Never yours.”

 

“I almost wish I hadn’t known at all. Those few weeks we had - “ She chokes on the words, digs her nails into her fiancé’s chest and watches as the marks go red and then white. Concentrating on that makes it a tiny bit easier not to think about everything else. “I knew there was a chance of, y’know, but I was just so happy.” The admission is a true one, but it’s painful to say out loud. 

 

“I know, sweetheart, I know. Me too. We’ll be okay, though, us and the boys. And who knows, maybe one d - ”

 

She shuts him up with a bruising kiss, partly because she needs to be as close to him as she can be right now, but also because she doesn’t want to hear the words. Blake means well, she gets that, but nothing can bring her (she doesn’t know - it was too early - but she KNEW) back now, not her private prayers and not his public pleas. He’ll learn; dreams need time to die.


	12. Chapter 12

Blake’s watching the video for the second time that evening when she joins him in bed, and that’s probably the first mistake he makes. The second is grunting a non-response when she jabs him in the back. 

 

“Chrissakes, Blake, I’m literally naked in bed right now, and you’re glued to your phone?”

 

His eyes widen, and he quickly rolls over, grins and waggles an eyebrow. “Seriously? My spidey-sense didn’t even pick up on it?!”

 

His wife is under their sheets, but the old sweatshirt she likes to wear is clearly visible. He’s loathe to call what she said a lie, though, maybe because he does sort of understand why she’s looking at him with that familiar combination of frustration and resentment. It’s the old story. 

 

“Sorry,” he offers, pressing pause and carefully placing his iPhone next to their bed. “Someone just reminded me of something earlier today, and I wanted to, well…” Miranda’s looking blank. “Doesn’t matter, babe.”

 

Before he can apologize again, she’s leaning over him (and god, he misses sex; her breasts are literally right _there_ ) and taking his phone. She scrolls through a few texts and then opens up the movie app. And yeah, he may have paused it on his favorite part. Not everyone can say Gwen freaking Stefani looked at them like THAT, after all. And yes, it totally still counts, even if it was ‘fake’ and for Fallon’s show. 

 

“Ran, it’s just - ”

 

“Shut up. Let me watch.”

 

She’d blown him off the day it aired, when he wanted to share how exciting it had been for him and how cool it was to sing a duet with Gwen, even it had been merely miming. It feels wrong now. Ran’s lips are thin and pursed, and her brow is furrowed, and he’s suddenly filled with the urge to defend himself, to justify himself. 

 

Even though there’s nothing to justify. Of course. Nobody needs to know the _exact_ reason he missed a few words during the filming, the cause of those sleepless early hours, why he occasionally watches the video when he’s all alone in bed at night. It’s kind of pathetic, really, he knows that. 

 

But it always (and sometimes he desperately needs something reliable) makes him smile. Gwen does too, but in the absence of her and her light and her laugh and her… Well, he’ll take what he can. 


	13. Chapter 13

The first time she tries to cook for him, it’s something of a disaster. Overambitious is the word he uses later that night when they cuddle up in bed while giving the meal its post-mortem. It’s not that it tasted bad, exactly, except for the fish which was a little overcooked, and the vegetables which he’s pretty sure were steamed for too long.

 

"‘m not dating you for your ability to whip up a four-course meal," Blake says, hoping it sounds reassuring and not condescending.

 

She snorts a little, nosing into his still-flushed neck, and honestly, the only thing he can think about is how she’s comfortable enough now with him to make those unattractive (endearing) little noises, and _he_ ’s the lucky one who gets to hear them.

 

"I’m not really that great, either," he continues, his hand coming to rest on her hip and drawing her closer to him. "One year Ran actually bought us cooking lessons so we wouldn’t be so pathetic. Pretty sure the French guy teaching us gave me up for a lost cause before the end of that year."

 

"Did it work at _all_ , though?"

 

"How about ya come over to my place tomorrow and find out?" Gwen laughs right in his face, then, a sparkly, joyful, loud burst of noise that has his insides all squirmy. "That’s a yes?"

 

"That’s a yes, cowboy." Her lips meet his and he can still feel her smiling, even as the kiss deepens and she starts unbuttoning his shirt. Her fingers are ridiculously nimble, and if he weren't still recovering from their last bout of - almost-clothed - sex (if it weren't completely inappropriate, he'd boast about this newest miracle of a work-out routine to every last person who thinks they're entitled to poke at his stomach and ask about his weight loss), he would probably be hard already just at the way her nails scrape down his newly-bared chest. "I appreciate the subtlety."

 

"How's 'please hurry up and fuck me' for subtle?"


	14. Chapter 14

The third time she catches him staring at the photos on the wall, she lets her fingers do the talking, mussing his hair up and then tilting his head towards her with one well-manicured nail. No marks left; a real pro.

 

"Distracted, babe?"

 

"Mmm," he acknowledges, his hands coming to rest on her thighs and his lips against her neck in a spot he’d discovered only last night was super, super sensitive. "Was. Busy now, though. Best distraction _ever_."

 

And as much as she does want to spend her afternoon cuddling and making out with him on the couch, there’s also so much cowardice in the move she just made that she’s hesitant to admit it even to herself. Because, what, she’s scared her boyfriend (how crazy does that sound, though, her _boyfriend_?!) is going to confront her about the fact she still has pictures of freaking Gavin all over her house?

 

Sometimes it feels like she’s on this slow slide into forcibly removing every last trace of her ex from her life, and yeah, maybe leaving the photos up is a painful reminder that he literally broke their family apart, but maybe there are days where she’s practically alone in her house and wallowing in their history is actually what she _wants_ to do.

 

Kinda sick, but…

 

"Can hear ya thinkin’, Gwen," he says, one long arm banded around her, bringing her so close to him that she can feel his every inhale and exhale. "Wanna talk about it?"

 

Never is the real answer, even if she doesn’t says it out loud.

 

"Y’know, I still listen to her songs sometimes," he says carefully, thoughtfully, making sure she doesn’t miss a single word. "I mean, it’s awful hard but it’s hard to totally let go."

 

"I don’t miss him. Not anymore. It’s not _that_." His hands are running up and down her back, almost a massage but not quite, and she just wants to stay here forever, really. "I miss my family, though, and what if the kids - I don’t want to make it harder for them, y'know?"

 

His eyes are full of warmth and something like love too, she thinks. "Your selflessness amazes me."

 

Gwen smiles into his kiss. " _You_  amaze me."


End file.
